No Greater Love
by NashNurse
Summary: On August 1st, 1953 Hawkeye Pierce arrives unexpectedly at Margaret's home. His presence floods Margaret's mind with painful memories of the past and of the last time she had seen seen the man she thought was dead.
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Benjamin Pierce, also known as Hawkeye, stepped out of the cab and into the hot, August sunshine. He paid the driver and looked at the crumpled paper in his hand. The address matched that of the small yellow house in front of him. He had just arrived in Yakima, Washington the day before, August first 1953. He surveyed the house before him. The grass was freshly trimmed and bordered with a quaint, white picket fence. Red carnations bordered the walkway and a large apple tree stood in the middle of the lawn, a swing hanging from it. Hawkeye opened the gate, but stepped back quickly as a small, border collie, puppy bounded towards him. He patted the dog's head gently and walked to the front door, knocking lightly before straitening his brown tie.

Hawkeye knocked again, and turned around in surprise as a young boy and girl bounced in the yard and headed for the tree.

"Are you looking for Miss Maggie?" the boy asked, Hawkeye guessed him to be around ten years of age.

"Margaret Houlihan." Hawkeye confirmed, smiling at Margaret's new title. "Is she home?"

"Yeah but she's in the backyard so she won't hear ya knockin'." The boy pulled himself into the tree and plucked and small apple off and bit into it.

"Are you a soldier?" he asked. Hawkeye laughed happily.

"Not anymore," Hawkeye said smiling to himself.

"Oh, well okay. You can go around through the gate, she won't mind."

Hawkeye smiled his thanks and walked around to the side fence. He opened it quietly and slipped around the house.

Hawkeye tentatively poked his head around the corner, his eyes searching for Margaret. He spotted her next to a barbecue, wearing white pedal pushers and a pink top.

"Come on Hawkeye, hurry up your dinner is ready." She shouted. Hawkeye stared at her back in surprise. That certainly wasn't the reaction he was expecting.

Suddenly the Border collie dashed around the corner, running to Margaret who poured some dry dog food into a small bowl.

"There you go Hawk," she said, patting the small dog's head.

Hawkeye Pierce grinned broadly. "What did he do to get a name like that?"

Margaret spun around, her mouth hanging wide open. All the color drained from her face as she leaned up against the wall for balance.

Hawkeye hurried to her, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. Margaret burst into tears, clinging to him helplessly. She couldn't believe that he was here, holding her like this. It had been over a year since she had seen him; it had been a year since that horrible night.


	2. Chapter 2

ALright, thus begins the flashback...haha. Alright so from here until chapter five is all one long flashback. It start near the end of the epison CAVE. For those of you who never saw this episode, The 4077th bugs out to a nearby cave. One of Hawkeye's patients need surgery so Hawkeye and Margaret travel back to the 4077th... So, we are now up to date ) Updates will be quick...depending on you. I have already finished the story so when I get five comments I will update (as usual) Enjoy!

Major-Baby

* * *

Margaret screamed as another shell went off, "Ask me another question." She begged Hawkeye, who was standing in front of her in the dark operating room.

"Male or female?"

"She's a woman." Margaret was trying her best to focus on her job, but the explosions around her were making her feel like a tiny child. Then, as suddenly as the explosions started, they stopped.

"Listen," she hissed excitedly. Hawkeye looked up at her in puzzlement.

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly, it's over! We made it, it's all over!"

Hawkeye wasn't so sure, inside he was jumping up and down as Margaret was, but outwardly he tried to appear wary.

"They may just be reloading the cotton in their ears." He suggested. Margaret shook her head, she refused to be swayed. Suddenly they heard loud shouting and they both froze, their eyes locked on the window.

"Oh my god," Margaret breathed. Hawkeye reached across the table and grabbed her hand. Margaret closed her eyes and began to tremble violently.

"Oh god we're going to die." She moaned.

"Maybe they will leave us alone." He suggested hopefully as he frantically tried to finish the operation. Margaret nodded and stared at Hawkeye as he desperately worked on the young man.

The doors to the OR crashed open and Margaret screamed and quickly ran for the back door. Hawkeye held his hands up in an attempt to buy her some time, and possibly protect his patient.

Margaret stumbled in the darkness and unwillingly cried out in pain as something punctured her leg. She stood up painfully and once again tried to run but she felt a pair of strong hand upon her shoulders. She began to twist and kick violently. The man holding her groaned as she kicked his shins. He let go of her and she ran towards the trees, she only made it a few feet before something hit her head and she blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Margaret moaned loudly as she woke up. She looked around her in puzzlement; how did she get in the swamp? Margaret tried to sit up but was pushed back forcefully onto the cot.

"Margaret, are you awake?" Hawkeye's voice was tense and quiet.

"What are they going to do to us?" Margaret asked, trying her hardest not to begin to cry.

"I don't know; maybe they will…" He was cut off as one of the men guarding him, delivered a heavy blow to his abdomen with the end of his rifle.

Margaret sat up again, squinting in the darkness. She realized she was sitting on Hawkeye's bunk and she reached up to turn on the light. The man guarding her shouted something at her and quickly turned the light off again. In the few moments that the light was on, Margaret saw the blood and dirt that covered Hawkeye's body.

Another man stepped into the tent and walked to Hawkeye. He picked him up and began to drag him out of the room.

"Stop it!" Margaret screamed. She did not know what she would do if she was left alone with these men.

"Leave him alone," she was hysterical now, she did not care what happened to her, just so long as she wasn't alone. The guard hit her face with the back of his hand and she slapped him back. He angrily grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her violently.

Margaret sobbed and screamed, each noise she uttered bringing another blow from the soldier. Suddenly he dropped her back onto the cot as a gun went off. Margaret tentatively opened her eyes and through the moonlight, she saw Hawkeye in a crumpled form on top of the man who had previously been abusing her.

The three soldiers that were now in the tent descended upon Hawkeye and began to beat him in whatever manner they chose. Hawk's shoulder was bleeding profusely, and small trails of blood seeped from his mouth.

In one last desperate attempt to make them stop, Margaret crawled over to one of the men. As he was distracted, she turned his head and kissed him fiercely.

He looked at her in shock and then smiled, before saying something to the other men, who promptly left the tent. The soldier led her over to a cot and harshly began to tug at her clothing as Margaret did her best to remove them; she had stripped down to her undergarments when she heard a small noise from the corner of the room.

"Margaret," she pulled herself out of the man's arms and knelt down beside Hawkeye.

"You're gonna be okay Hawk," she sobbed. He smiled and reached for her face, wincing in pain as he did.

"Don't do this Margaret." He pleaded. The soldier jerked Margaret to her feet in annoyance and led her back to the cot.

"I have to," she whispered in response as Hawkeye closed his eyes. As the soldier began to roughly caress her breasts, Margaret moaned. She wanted to spit in this man's face. However, she knew that so long as he was with her, Hawkeye would be left alone. She did not know how she would be able to live with herself if something happened to him.


	4. Chapter 4

The soldier disdainfully shoved her away from him as Margaret gasped for breath. This was thefifth soldier she had been with that night. Margaret desperately wished she were dead. He tugged at his clothing and hurriedly left the tent. Margaret waited in dread for another man. To her surprise, none came. After almost ten minutes, Margaret climbed off the cot and dragged herself towards Hawkeye, who was still unconscious in the corner of the room, wrapping a blanket around her body as she went.

"Hawkeye," she whispered as she pulled his head onto her lap. "Hawkeye wake up please." She begged, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her face.

Margaret was shaking with terror. When she signed up to be a nurse that was all she thought was involved, to serve as a nurse in a hospital. She had been furious when she discovered that she had been assigned to a MASH unit. She thought it was beneath her, but she never thought of the danger of working so close to the front. Now she was terrified of what might happen. Where they going to kill them both? Margaret scooted closer to Hawkeye and he moaned suddenly.

"Hawkeye," she whispered urgently, shaking him slightly. "Oh god, Hawkeye please wake up." Margaret breathed a sigh of relief as his eyelids opened slightly.

When he saw her tears, he tried his best to sit up. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. Margaret did not answer as she pushed him gently against the wall.

"Don't try to move," she instructed him. He nodded and wrapped his good arm around her. Margaret sobbed again and pressed her body tightly against him.

Unexpectedly, gunfire rang out from all around them. Margaret screamed in terror as Hawkeye pushed her on the floor, covering her with his body. The fire ceased and they could hear shouts coming from the woods; American voices.

Margaret laughed in relief, letting out the dread she had felt for the past five hours. Hawkeye placed his finger over her mouth to hush her.

"Crawl under the cot." He instructed. Margaret looked at his as if her were crazy.

"Hawkeye, don't you hear their voices? The American soldiers are coming; we're going to be fine!" she exclaimed. Hawkeye shook his head in frustration and frowned.

"Whatever Margaret, now please get under the cot." The intensity in his voice frightened Margaret immensely and she did as she was told. He dragged himself towards her and draped a blanket over the cot to conceal her.

Suddenly shellfire began exploding around them. Margaret screamed and quickly grabbed for Hawkeye who pushed her gently back under the cot. He rearranged the blanket and began to crawl towards the door.

"Please don't leave me," she cried after him. Hawkeye returned and kissed her gently on the lips.

"In a few minutes some men may come in here. Don't move, don't make a sound. Stay under this cot, do you understand?" Margaret nodded anxiously.

"Good," Hawkeye kissed her again, and stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry Hot Lips."

"For what?"

"For being such a jerk to you, when all I wanted was to be there for you." Margaret bit her lip to keep from crying and Hawkeye kissed her again.

"Margaret, you may not believe this, but I'm afraid I won't have another chance to tell you this." Here Margaret tried to speak but he shook his head. "Let me finish. We have been through a hell of a lot together, and I have seen a side of you that really surprised me. You've been a good friend to me, Margaret, and I…"

The door to the tent crashed open and Hawkeye frantically dropped the blanket over Margaret. Margaret's mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she heard Hawkeye being dragged from the room. Shells were exploding around her; she could hear the buildings being ripped apart. Engines started and headlights shone into the tent. Soon the engine noise faded as they headed down the road.

The shellfire kept coming, one crashed into the tent and Margaret could feel the small bits of metal sinking into her back as she curled into a ball.

The night dragged on as Margaret faded in and out of consciousness. At one point during the night, Margaret could hear American voices coming through camp. She tried to drag herself to the door but was unsuccessful, and she collapsed in the middle of the room unable to go any further.


	5. Chapter 5

Come on folks...it's like pulling teeth to get a few reviews... sheesh... I have the very last chaoter (six) all typed out and ready to go... so as you know five reviews will get an update! Enjoy!

* * *

Colonel Potter crashed into post-op, searching for their head nurse and chief surgeon. He was surprised that post-op had survived the shelling. When they had first arrived back in camp, it was in shambles. All the tents but one was completely demolished. Potter walked into the OR and saw the young soldier still on the operating table. Potter's blood ran cold when he realized that Pierce and Houlihan had never finished the surgery.

"Klinger!" he shouted loudly as he stormed outside. "Klinger, form a search party. We need to find…"

"Colonel Potter!" Radar's high-pitched voice echoed from across the compound. "Colonel Potter, Captain Hunnicut, come quick!"

Both doctors rushed to the Swamp, where Radar was standing.

"What is it Radar?" BJ asked surveying the pile of rubbish.

"There's a person in that mess!" he moaned, putting his hand over his mouth.

"Calm down son," Potter said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "How do you know there's someone in there?"

"I heard 'em." Radar said frantically, he felt like he was going to be sick, he did not see how anyone could still be alive in that pile of rubbish.

Several men began tossing aside broken beams, and piles of ripped canvas, Charles was the first to reach the body. He winced as he saw the bruises and cuts covering the body.

"It's Margaret," he announced as he attempted to pick up her near naked body. He felt warm liquid on his arm, and he groaned as he realized it was blood.

"Colonel Potter," he called to the older man. "Her back is injured." Potter hurriedly climbed over the debris to see for himself.

He looked at the woman's back and shook his head. "Get her in OR now!" he commanded sternly. Charles nodded and rushed her into the one building that, miraculously, had survived the shelling.

* * *

Margaret woke up to the sound of hammering. She kept her eyes tightly closed, terrified of who might be making the noise. She quickly became aware of the pain surging through her body. Her back felt as if it were on fire. Still she tried her best to remain perfectly still. A cool hand touched her shoulder and she cringed away. 

"Margaret, are you awake?" Her eyes flew open; she would recognize that sweet voice anywhere.

"Colonel," she sobbed, clutching at his hand.

"Hey, calm down sweetheart." He said, stroking herhand soothingly. Margaret searched the room for any sign of Hawkeye.

"Where's Hawkeye?" she asked frantically, trying to sit up.

Colonel Potter pushed her back gently and sighed. "I was hoping you could tell me." Margaret closed her eyes and choked back a sob. She had suspected it was true but she didn't want to believe it. Margaret thought back to the last second she had seen him. The calm, loving look in his eyes had calmed her and made her able to remain silent under the cot. Margaret gasped suddenly and opened her eyes, not caring about the tears that were sliding down her cheeks.

"He saved my life," she whispered. Margaret had not understood at the time, but she had climbed under the cot just to please him. Now she knew that if he had not done that she would have been dragged off with Hawkeye. Colonel Potter squeezed her hand and left to check on the other patients. Margaret stared at the ceiling and a small memory from her childhood entered her mind.

Her mother kept a small tapestry hanging in the hallway. As a child, Margaret was never sure what it meant but now she understood it with perfect clarity. _Greater love has no one than this, than to lay one's life down for a friend. _


	6. Chapter 6

Ha, I bet you all were shocked to see an update on this! lol. I was planning on doing a sequal... honestly I was, but I figured it would make much more sense to just keep it all in the smae story... six chapters was waaaay too short anyway. This is a very short chapter but I wanted to see how many people would still read this, so please review!

Major-Baby

* * *

Hawkeye groaned as he felt something tossed against his body. He struggled to open his eyes and discovered an unconscious young boy, no older than eighteen, thrown up against him. Hawkeye straightened himself up and tried to take in his surroundings, however dark.

Stone floor, stone walls, no windows… Hawkeye could feel his chest tightening; damn the room was small. The boy shifted and Hawkeye turned to him, trying to see where he was hurt.

"You're new," the boy muttered, pushing Hawk's hands away.

"You've been here long?"

The boy nodded and pulled himself to a sitting position. "Forty-seven days," he replied, obviously not wanting to talk.

Hawkeye shuddered and laid his head against the cold stone walls, trying to let sleep take him away from this nightmare.

* * *

Margaret sat up as straight as she could and stared out the small window of the airplane. She could make out streets below her and cars, all glistening brightly as the sun reflected off of them. She sighed and closed her eyes, she wasn't ready for this, she didn't want to face anyone at all, least of all her mother.

The plane made contact with the runway and Margaret opened her eyes, watching everything speed by. After ten more minutes people slowly began to stand up and collect their things. Margaret sullenly watched them all file past her and off the plane. After almost twenty minutes a man from inside the terminal approached her and lifted her quickly and carried her down the stairs and depositing her in a wheelchair on the runway.


	7. Chapter 7

Alright, I had the world's biggest case of writters block with this story... I got bored with it I guess. Well, anyway, updates should be more regular now. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

MajorBaby

P.S. Oh and I'm not really going to have much of what's going on with Hawkeye. I'll insert a few bits every few chapters or so, but I'm mainly focusing on Margaret.

* * *

Hawkeye coughed and pushed himself up against the wall, groaning at the movement.

"Is there any chance you can shut up?"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Sure, get me some antibiotics and a splint and I'll be just fine." Hawkeye had given up all hope of befriending the young man who shared the filthy cell. Every attempt to say anything ended in the kid spewing out a string of profanities.

Hawkeye closed his eyes tightly, it was the only way he could breathe freely in the small space, but then again, it invited unwanted thoughts.

"Why don't you just go to sleep?" the boy asked harshly.

"I don't like dreaming," Hawkeye responded seriously. He was tired of joking with the kid; he had given that up days ago.

"How could your dreams be any worse than this?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Hawkeye asked bluntly.

The boy looked at him angrily and shrugged. "Not anymore."

"Well, imagine her in this hell hole. That is how dreams could be worse."

The boy shivered and Hawkeye sighed. "We're going to be here a while, wouldn't it be better if you didn't hate me?" Hawkeye watched him closely, seeing a look of mistrust and uncertainty cross the boy's face.

"Just shut up and I'll like you a lot better."

* * *

"Margaret!" someone called her name and she twisted around in her chair.

"Lorraine," Margaret held her arms out to her friend and tried to smile. The two friends embraced, both trying to keep back tears.

"Thank you for coming," Margaret said hoarsely. "I didn't want to have to call my mother."

Lorraine laughed and smiled. "I don't blame you." Margaret smiled weakly and Lorraine hugged her again. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

Margaret sighed, clutching a small bag, holding all of her possession. Everything she had owned was destroyed that night. "I'm not really hungry," she said quietly.

Lorraine sighed, wheeled Margaret over to a group of chairs and Lorraine sat in front of her. "Margaret I know it's got to be hard, and I'm not pretending to know what you're going through but please don't shut me out."

"I'm not!" Margaret said defensively, crossing her arms.

Lorraine smiled knowingly and shook her head. "Not yet, but you're about to. If I say one wrong word you'll shut up like a clam and I won't get a word out of you for days."

Margaret smiled unwillingly and chuckled at her friend's insight. "Alright, I'll sob on your shoulder constantly," she offered, trying to keep the mood light. Lorraine smiled and patted her friend's knee.

"Good girl. Now let's go get some food."

* * *

"So how did you find me?" Lorraine asked curiously, smirking as she watched Margaret pounce hungrily on a hamburger.

Margaret smiled and shrugged. "God this is fantastic," she moaned.

"Are you actually trying to avoid my question? Really Margaret, after all these years I thought you would know I'll never let you get away with that."

Margaret sighed and leaned back in her wheelchair, crossing her arms defiantly. "I had some good friends who really wanted to help me."

Lorraine smiled slightly. "From the 4077th?"

Margaret laughed nervously and nodded. "Yes." Her tone of voice was strong and defiant, daring Lorraine to prod further.

Lorraine noticed her friend's change in tone and threw up her hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, I can take a hint."

"So are you headed for your mother's house?"

Margaret chuckled cynically and stared at her friend.

Lorraine laughed. "Okay sorry, dumb question. Where are you headed?"

Margaret reached into her bag and handed Lorraine a sheet of paper. "It's a letter from Henry Mayo Hospital in Yakima, Washington." She explained. "They've hired me to do mostly paperwork and phone previous patients about billing. Its good pay and perfect for my… er, situation. They expect me in three weeks."

"How are you going to get back and forth from work?"

"I'll hire a personal nurse."

Lorraine sensed Margaret's growing discomfort and changed the subject. "Well, we have eight days in beautiful SanFransisco. What do you want to do?"

Margaret looked at her friend in shock. "I thought you had to leave in three days."

Lorraine smiled bashfully. "Well, do you remember me telling you about a guy I worked with at the 8063rd?"

Margaret nodded, "Michael Something-Or-Other, right?"

"Williams, yeah. Well he proposed."

Margaret's mouth dropped open in shock as she stared at the woman across from her. Finally she let out an excited squeal and grabbed Lorraine's hand. "What did you say?"

Lorraine grinned and looked down in embarrassment. "I said yes." Margaret laughed loudly in excitement and Lorraine continued talking. "That's why I have eight days. His plane is coming in then and I want to be here when it lands."

Margaret smiled happily and shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you're getting married."

Lorraine pointed to Margaret's almost-empty plate. "Are you done yet?" Margaret laughed and nodded.

"I guess so, let's go."


	8. Chapter 8

"Hello, Colonel," Margaret greeted softly.

"Margaret!" the old man exclaimed happily. "I'm so glad you called!"

Margaret tried to smile as she clutched the receiver to her ear. "I told you I would." She mumbled, wishing she could just hang up the phone immediately.

"Well how are you, Margaret?" his voice had dropped to a lower tone and Margaret angrily wiped away a lone tear. She didn't want anyone pitying her.

"I'm fine," she said a bit harshly.

"I have some news that you're not going to want to hear." Potter said reluctantly.

Margaret took a deep breath, she had a feeling he was right. "Well?" she prompted aloofly.

"Some troops found a group of American POW's." The old man took a deep breath; he could hear Margaret's ragged breathing on the other end of the line.

"They had all been shot and then thrown into a mine field, a couple of men hit mines; most of the men were covered in third degree burns."

"One of them was Pierce." Margaret finished for him; she wasn't interested in the details.

"Yeah. He was the same height, although they weren't able to actually see any defining facial expressions, and he had the dog togs in his pocket."

Margaret covered her mouth and tried to keep from crying. She knew it wasn't likely that he would survive but a part of her had hoped and prayed that he had escaped somehow.

"Thank you for telling me," she garbled, trying to compose herself.

"I had to call his father four days ago and tell him. " Potter continued. "We talked for about a half hour. He told me he'll be having a funeral for Hawkeye tomorrow. They should have received the casket yesterday."

"Colonel, I need to go, I need to get ready before my friend gets back," Margaret hastily told him. She had to get off the phone before she burst into tears.

"I know its hard, Margaret, but I think it would be best if you went," he told her gently.

"I really have to go," she insisted

"Alright, Margaret," Potter relented, his heart aching for the young woman. "Good luck."

"Goodbye, Colonel." Margaret whispered. She slammed down the receiver and stared and scooted the phone off her lap and onto a small end table. She stared at the floor, struggling to keep her tears at bay, for almost a half hour. She didn't hear the sound of keys, jingling just outside the hotel room.

"Margaret?"

Margaret's head jerked up as she hears her friend's worried voice. "He's dead," she whispered.

"Who?" Lorraine felt fear grip her heart, and she prayed it wasn't Alvin. She knew her friend couldn't handle losing one more person.

"Pierce," Margaret stared at Lorraine through tear-filled eyes. "You remember him don't you?"

Lorraine quickly walked over to her friend and kneeled over to give her a comforting hug. "I'm so sorry, Maggie," she whispered.

Margaret nodded dumbly, still refusing to let herself cry, and pushed her friend away. "I need to get a flight to Maine," she said suddenly. "Can you help me?"

"I guess I could call Matthew once we got there…"

"No," Margaret interrupted. "I need to go by myself."

Lorraine looked at her curiously. "But how can you…"

"I'll manage!" Margaret snapped angrily before looking at her friend gloomily. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just need to go by myself. And besides, I don't want you to miss meeting Matthew. Can you drive me back to the airport?"

Lorraine sighed and nodded. "Alright, but I wish we could have stayed together longer."

"I know," Margaret worked up a small smile and touched the side of her friend's face. "I love you Lorrie,"

* * *

Margaret struggled to get into her wheelchair as the friendly cab driver attempted to assist her. "I'm awfully sorry, Ma'm," he said bashfully after he almost dropped her on the gravel driveway.

Margaret straightened her skirt and shook her head. "It's alright," she said, her cheeks flushed from humiliation. She knew she was going to have to look into hiring a private nurse very soon. She couldn't handle being on her own, it was impossible and nothing could change that.

Margaret dug into her purse and paid the man, giving him a large tip. "Thank you," he said sincerely as he jumped back into the cab. Margaret sighed as he drove away and looked up at the large house in front of her.

She wasn't sure how to describe it. She couldn't call it Victorian, although in certain aspects it did look the part. It had a large bay window, but yet there were pillars in the front, resembling an old Colonial mansion. And more confusing still, was the house's sprawling layout which appeared to be that of a ranch style house.

"Kooky men living in a kooky house," she mumbled to herself as she struggled to wheel the chair through the gravel. She was grateful to notice a ramp on the side of the porch and made her way towards it.

"Are you looking for Daniel?" a car pulled to a stop in front of the house and an older man smiled at her questioningly.

Margaret nodded hesitantly and the man pointed down the road. "He's at the church already; I can take you there if you want." He offered. Margaret was about to decline, but she couldn't. She desperately needed to be at the funeral and she knew she couldn't make it on her own.

"I would appreciate it," she said as she turned the chair around.

"Ah, hold it right there, Miss." He turned off the engine and jogged over to her. "There's no reason you need to bother with that. I've carried quite a few gals over the years if you know what I mean."

The man, who looked about sixty-five, winked as he leaned over and picked Margaret up effortlessly. "You don't weigh a thing," he commented lightly. "Why, once I tried to pick up my Nancy, that there was a mistake for sure, I threw out my back for almost a moth. The fattest darn woman I've ever seen." He shook his head disapprovingly as he sat Margaret down in the front seat.

"The name's George Mason," he offered his hand and Margaret shook it.

"Margaret Houlihan."

"Ben's Margaret?" he asked in surprise, a delighted smile on his face. Margaret's face blanched and he quickly retracted his statement when he saw the woman's expression.

"Daniel always read Ben's letters out loud at our poker games," he explained in a hurry. "Ben always had the funniest stories about you folks from the 4077th."

With Margaret still looking decidedly uncomfortable, George jogged back to the wheel chair, folded it up expertly and then deposited it in the back of the car.

"So is Nancy your wife?" Margaret asked, hoping he wouldn't bring up any more storied about Hawkeye.

"She was one of 'em." George said flippantly. "The third I think."

Margaret smiled slightly and looked out the window, wondering what it would have been like growing up around people like George.


	9. Chapter 9

"Here we are," George announced as he pulled off to the side of the street. In the distance Margaret could see a small white church that looked like it was out of a story book. It had a covered porch wrapping completely around it, giving it the appearance of a house. The tiny parking lot beside it was stuffed full and cars were beginning to pile up on both sides of the street.

He helped Margaret into her chair and she smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said gruffly, her cheeks still flushed from embarrassment, she hated being so entirely dependant on the good-nature of others.

"No problem, Miss," he said sincerely. "Now if ya like I can introduce you to Daniel…"

"No!" Margaret quickly interjected, before smiled at her own hastiness. "I just want to be as inconspicuous as possible," she explained.

He nodded in understanding. "Well the sidewalk is paved and we had ramps put on most of the buildings in town so you should be alright," he began to walk away but then turned to her with a smile. "But iffen ya need any help be sure to let me know, ya hear?"

Margaret nodded and began to wheel herself towards the church. She could barely manage to squeeze into the small building. It seemed as if the entire town had shown up. The thought caught her by surprise although she knew it shouldn't have. Hawkeye was always willing to offer his friendship to anyone until they showed him that they didn't want a friendship. So why should she be surprised that so many people were attending his funeral.

"Excuse me," Margaret heard a familiar voice as someone bumped the chair roughly. "Sorry about that, baby."

Margaret stared at the man in shock even though he hadn't given her a second glance. "McIntyre," she muttered to herself in disbelief.

For one instant she was tempted to call out to him but the thought of him seeing her sitting helplessly in a wheelchair caused her to turn away and fight her way towards the door. Once she made it outside she wheeled herself around the wide porch to the back of the building. There was another door and she looked inside curiously, wanting to watch the people inside.

Instead the site of a polished, black casket with a flag draped above it met her gaze and she felt herself begin to shake. A young man walked to the front of the building and motioned for everyone to sit down. Margaret realized he was the minister, although she thought he was far too young to fit the part, barely above thirty. It occurred to her that he had probably known Hawkeye well.

"We are here today," he said solemnly. "Not only to grieve for the life that was taken from us but also to celebrate the life he had. Benjamin Pierce was a part of this town and he had a way of making everyone feel welcome."

Margaret's eyes drifted from the young man back to the casket. She knew it wasn't going to be an open-casket ceremony because of the burns, but she found herself wishing she could see his face. To be certain that he was really gone.

After all, she reasoned, couldn't it be that someone had just taken his dog tags? That he could still be alive somewhere in Korea? Margaret shook the ideas from her mind. No, he was gone, she had to face that. Still it was so odd thinking of him in that wooden box. She could almost feel his arms slipping around her shoulders and holding her tight on that horrible night.

"I knew Ben well, as most of you here did," the man's words jerked her back out of her reverie and she tried to look up at the man but her eyes were glued on the casket.

"For his friends he was a joy to be around, and for his enemies," the minister paused and chuckled. "For his enemies he was hell on earth." Margaret found herself amused by this odd preacher, who described Hawkeye so bluntly.

"He was my best friend, and I know many of you had the pleasure of calling him the same." Margaret's thought s drifted to Trapper who was sitting somewhere inside and she wondered what he must be thinking.

"We're all going to miss Benjamin Hawkeye Pierce, but we are left with thousands of warm memories and the knowledge that his life, however short, was completely devoted to saving lives."

The preacher sat down and Margaret breathed a sigh of relief, she had come extremely close to tears with the man's final words and she was grateful he had stopped before she fell apart completely.

George Mason made his way to the front. "Daniel asked me to take his place up here today," he announced in a gruff voice. Margaret noticed a few unchecked tears on the man's cheek. "If everyone could stand while we proceed to the graveyard."

George stood beside the casket and three more men approached and she felt herself panicking. She wasn't sure if she should follow the crowd to the cemetery behind the church. She was terrified of falling apart but she found herself wheeling around to the back.

_"I'll just stay on the porch._" She stubbornly told herself. Ten minutes later, after a few more words from the minister, Margaret heard the sickening sound of dirt hitting the smooth surface of the casket. The noise was muffled a bit by the flag but every tiny rock or grain of dirt striking the wood echoed in her ears, making her want to scream at them to stop.

"It's a horrible noise," Margaret turned and saw an older man beside her. "I saw you wince," he clarified, leaning up against the porch railing. "The dirt on the casket," he began again. "It's the worst part of a funeral. I've had my share of funerals too so I should know."

Margaret only stared at the man, completely unwilling to enter into another conversation.

"He was a good kid. Troublesome at times," he added with a smile. "But he was a good kid. After his mom passed on everyone in this town… well I don't know… we all seemed to pitch in and try and raise him together."

The old man sighed and Margaret surveyed him curiously, wondering what kind of role he played in Hawkeye's life. He was short, no taller than 5'8", he had a thick head of white heir, bushy eyebrows, wrinkled skin, all-in-all the very portrait of a small-town man. He was dressed in a well-made suit that appeared to be two sizes to small but he carried himself in such a way that no one would dare say he was sloppy, or disheveled.

"Did you know him well?" the man prodded.

Margaret frowned, resenting the intrusion. "Well enough," she replied airily.

"What did you think of him?"

Margaret had no idea why this man continued pestering her. She wanted to scream at him to leave her alone. Instead she straightened her shoulders and stuck her chin in the air. "In all honesty I thought he was a complete jackass," she said firmly.

The man laughed and Margaret felt sick to her stomach. There was no mistaking that laugh. She flushed hotly and her frowned deeply. "You must be Daniel Pierce," she said reluctantly.

He nodded and extended his hand. "By your answer I think you know him better than most," he told her with a wink. "And by the way you said it I conclude that you are none other than Margaret Houlihan."

She nodded and Daniel looked back at the burial site, where the group was quickly dispersing. "I'm going to be bombarded in a moment with dozens of friends and relatives," he said sullenly. "That's the second worst part about funerals. Nobody leaves you alone."

"Would you have dinner with me?" Daniel asked her suddenly. "I know it's a lot to ask but I need some company at the house with me tonight, and John is a bit hard to bear alone." Margaret stared him in surprise before nodding. She had no idea why, out of all his friends, he wanted her to be a buffer between him and some house guest.

"On second thought," he said, eyeing the crowd steadily moving towards him. "I think I'd like to escape right about now, would you join me for lunch as well?"

Margaret smiled slightly and nodded. "I suppose," she said dumbly. "But why do you want to be with me?"

Daniel smiled slightly at her bluntness. "In all honesty I wanted to ask you a few things, and I need somebody new to bore with pictures of Ben, somebody who hasn't seen them a thousand times."

Margaret nodded somewhat reluctantly, she wasn't exactly ecstatic about the idea of being bombarded with pictures of the man she had so recently lost.

"Alright," he grabbed onto the handles on the back of her wheel-chair. "Let's escape this swarm of bees."


	10. Chapter 10

I know I promised more with HAwkeye, but I've had this chapter written up for a while and I didn't want to edit it. He'll be in the next chapter, I PROMISE!!! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

Margaret felt herself growing a bit excited at the prospect of seeing the inside of the home Hawkeye had grown up in. She gazed around at the pine trees surrounding the house. The tall house seemed so much less forbidding than it had that morning.

"Why is there a ramp?" Margaret asked curiously as Daniel pushed her wheelchair inside.

"My wife was in a wheelchair," he replied quickly. We installed ramps in just about every area of the town."

Margaret nodded and surveyed the inside of the house. A few assorted pictures hanging on the wall doubled with the one time fashionable furniture indicated that Mrs. Pierce had had quite nice taste, although the two single men had let the house go to shambles.

In place of a dinning room table there was a large poker table, with half empty bottles of scotch, gin, whiskey and other assorted liquors strewn about. The house was dark; all the blinds were drawn shut and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

"You still here, John?" Daniel called up the stairs. There was no answer and the old man sighed wearily and sat down on the dusty, worn couch. "The idiot probably went for more booze."

Margaret grunted in response, uncomfortable looking about, wondering why Daniel Pierce had asked her to come back with him.

"I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, hon." He said, standing up suddenly. "I just needed someone to be here with me. I know that seems—"

"I understand," Margaret interrupted. It's harder when you're alone." Daniel nodded appreciatively.

"I need some whiskey, want some?"

"That sounds good." Margaret began to look around the house, trying to figure out the layout. "Where are the stairs?" she asked curiously.

"There aren't any."

"I thought this was a two story house," Margaret commented in surprise.

Daniel chuckled dryly. "It is. My dad built this house. He had always wanted to be an architect so he read one book on the subject and then drew up his own plans for the house. Unfortunately he forgot to put in any stairs. I guess he just never got around to putting any in. Ben wants me to put some in but it seems such a shame to stop the long held tradition of procrastination."

The startled look on Margaret's face rather than the expected smile caused Daniel to rethink his words and then he laughed cynically. "I was talking about him in the present tense, wasn't I?"

Margaret nodded and Daniel walked over to her with the glass. "Sorry about that, I've done it several times in the past few days. People always look at me like I'm crazy."

"I can't believe he's gone," Margaret whispered.

Daniel nodded his eyes completely dry. "Maude, a friend of mine, kept asking my why I refused to cry." The old man sighed and walked back to the couch. Margaret wheeled herself over beside him and watched the sad face intently. "I couldn't cry," he mumbled. "It still seems so unreal. It seems like he's still in Korea and I'm just waiting for him to come home."

Margaret dropped her head down so Daniel wouldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. The door burst open and Margaret looked up at the drunken man who stumbled inside. She couldn't believe her eyes.

"What the hell is she doing here?" the man growled as he slammed the front door shut.

"I asked her to come back with me." Daniel replied evenly. "Go into the kitchen, John. There's some coffee in there. Try and sober up."

Margaret's mouth was still hanging open in shock as the curly headed-man stumbled into the kitchen to do as Daniel ordered.

"You know him as well, don't you?" Daniel asked her softly.

Margaret nodded. "When you said, _John_, I had no idea that—"

Daniel nodded in understanding. "You knew him as Trapper, am I right?"

"Captain McIntyre," Margaret mumbled to herself, feeling her chest tighten as memories of the two roguish surgeons flew through her mind.

"Wait a minute!" Trapper stumbled back through the doors and stood in front of Margaret, pointing his finger at her accusingly. "I thought you were dead!" he shouted.

Margaret looked at him blankly. "Kellye, she told me you were dead!"

"Nurse Kellye?" Margaret asked, still trying to understand what he was talking about. Why would Kellye tell him she was dead? Why was Kellye even still talking to him?

"No wait," Trapper began to pull at his chin while walking around in a crooked circle. "She said you _almost_ died."

"Shut up, McIntyre." Margaret hissed. She was flushing horribly and she knew Daniel was staring at her intently.

"That's how you ended up in that wheelchair, isn't it?" He laughed drunkenly. "It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"Stop it," Margaret's voice was gaining intensity and Daniel stood up to try and guide Trapper away.

"I think it's fitting, Danny." Trapper defended himself, pulling out of the old man's grasp and walking back to Margaret in a rage. "He dies and all you have to do is sit in a damn chair."

"That's enough, John."

"Do you know she killed your son?" Trapper shouted, whipping his head around to look at Daniel.

Daniel looked down at Margaret whose face had blanched and was shaking visibly. Trapper turned back to the girl and leaned down and grabbed her shoulders.

"You silly little bitch! You always had to come out first, didn't you? You, you, you! That's all that was ever important! He tried to be your friend and you wouldn't give him a second glance! You always thought you were better than us, didn't you? You killed him! He died helping you, damn it!"

"I didn't!" Margaret screamed at the top of her lungs while shoulders shook violently, as she almost choked on unshed tears. Daniel managed to pull Trapper away from Margaret and pushed him backwards before hitting him squarely in the eye. Trapper stumbled backwards and hit the floor, passing out in a drunken stupor.

Daniel turned back to Margaret who was doubled over and crying bitterly. "I didn't kill him," she sobbed. "I didn't." Daniel felt tears building up in his eyes as he reached for a lock of Margaret's hair, pulling in back behind her ear.

"Of course you didn't," he whispered. Picking up her hand and stroking it gently.

Margaret shook her head fiercely. She tried to stop crying but the effort only brought more tears. All the sadness and fears she had bottled up over the past two weeks came rushing out like water from a broken dam. "But I did," she almost scared herself as she said it. "I did kill him."

Daniel looked at the woman in shock; he had no idea what she was talking about. He had been told that his son had been shot and thrown into a mine-field. He knew the woman before him couldn't have had anything to do with that.

"No you didn't." he argued, trying to understand Margaret's jumbled words.

"If I hadn't been so eager to go along he wouldn't be gone. It's my fault."

"Margaret," Daniel pushed her backwards, in a normal sitting position and he shook her shoulders firmly. "Ben was shot. I know you didn't shoot him so what the hell are you talking about?"

Margaret tried to look at the man before her through her tears. 'He hid me," she sobbed. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she said, looking down at her lap again. "I was supposed to go too. Trapper's right. If I hadn't been there he would have had a place to hide and he would still be alive."

Daniel was barely able to grasp what the young woman was talking about. "You were with him when he was taken?"

Margaret nodded miserably and looked up through her tears and saw the wet trails streaming down the old man's face. "He can't be gone," she sobbed.

Daniel sighed deeply and held the woman close, feeling her tears on his cheek, mixing with his own.


	11. Chapter 11

"Wake up. Come on, wake up, damn it!"

Hawkeye opened his eyes just in time to see the young boy frantically stash something in a tiny crevice between the cement floor and the wall. Hawkeye tried to sit up but his head was pounding painfully and felt like lead.

"Can you hear me?" the kid grabbed Hawkeye's head and shook it slightly. A moan slipped out between Hawkeye's lips and he nodded slightly.

"Good. You told me about that girl you were wondering about; whether or not she was in here. Well when you get out, go find her. Find her and give her the ring. Okay? Get it? Tell her it's from me." The boy's voice was completely panicked and Hawkeye couldn't tell what was going on. Everything was blurred and he couldn't focus his eyes on any one particular spot. Hawkeye managed to nod even though he hadn't a clue as to what the boy was talking about.

There was a rustling at the door and light flooded into the dank, dark room. Hawkeye closed his eyelids, masking his feverishly glazed eyes. He heard a few muffled curses, a low groan, and the sound of something scraping against the stone floors. But after a few moments everything was silent and Hawkeye fell back into a feverish sleep.

* * *

Daniel handed her a cup of coffee and Margaret accepted it gratefully. She had just woken up ten minutes before, lying in the middle of the living room floor. She had managed to get herself in a sitting position, although her head was pounding painfully. She had found Daniel unconscious, a few feet away from her, and she vaguely remembered their joint effort to forget the horrible evens of the past weeks with a bottle of whiskey.

"How did you end up on the floor?" Daniel asked with a whisper, his head aching horribly.

Margaret shook her head cautiously. "I have no idea."

She sipped cautiously from the mug as she leaned back on the couch where Daniel had sat her.

"Hey baby cakes, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Margaret stiffened as she heard Trapper's voice behind her. "No." she replied tersely.

"Daniel, can you help me out?" Daniel looked at the young man's face and realized he was only there to apologize so the old man cautiously made it to his feet and walked into the kitchen.

"So tell me Margaret," Trapper moved around to the front of the couch and sat down beside her. "What can someone say to apologize when they've acted like a complete jackass and been utterly cruel?"

"You could tell the victim that the jackass is dying, it might bring their spirits up a bit." Margaret shot Trapper a stony glare and he chuckled.

"You know it's quite convenient having you on the couch like this." He slipped an arm around her shoulders and grinned.

"Get away from me," she growled.

"No, I don't think I—OW!" Trapper scooted away from her, clutching his side where Margaret had implanted her elbow. "Jesus, Margaret, was that necessary?"

She took another sip of her coffee, and turned her head to avoid looking at him. "Absolutely."

Trapper sighed and persistently slid his arm around her shoulders again. "I guess I had it coming." To his surprise Margaret didn't pull away, she just looked up at him with a hurt expression.

"Do have any idea the hell I've been through?" she asked menacingly. "How hard it's been going to sleep at night, knowing that he died trying to help me? He was my best friend, Trapper."

Trapper shook his head and pulled her closer. "Mine too, Hot Lips."

"Call me that again and you're just asking for a broken rib."

"Then stop calling me _Trapper_." He grinned and squeezed her shoulder's bringing a loud yelp from Margaret. "What did I do?" he asked blankly.

"Don't touch my back," she seethed her voice barely above a whisper. At first Trapper thought it was from anger but he realized she was trying to fight her way through the pain.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly, moving his hand upward, away from her back.

"So, John, tell me, where's your wife?" Margaret asked cynically, wanting to make the man feel uncomfortable.

"Louise died last year in a car crash," he replied evenly. "Along with my two girls."

Margaret felt her face flush brightly; she hadn't meant to make him _that_ uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," she stammered after a moment.

"It wasn't your fault."

At this point Daniel walked back in and looked in surprise at Trapper's arm entwined around Margaret's shoulders. "Are you asking for some bruises?" he asked the man.

"I already have one."

"Good." Daniel winked at Margaret and sat down in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

"How do you do it?" Margaret asked the man, staring at him in amazement.

"Do what, hon?"

"I'm miserable. All I want to do is crawl into a nice soft bed, burry my head in the pillows and stay that way for a month or so." Margaret shook her head in confusion. "You're his father for Christ's sake, and I haven't even seen one tear from you, on the contrary you've been smiling and making jokes all day."

Daniel shrugged slightly and looked towards a picture frame on the mantel. "That's my Marie," he said with a smile, indicating the woman in the picture. "She died when Ben was only ten years old. I spent so much time wallowing in self-pity that I completely ignored my son. I know I hurt him more than I can even imagine. When I realized what I was doing I swore I would never waste one more second of my life consumed with grief."

He turned his attention back on Margaret and smiled. "Even if it kills me I'm not going to spend the rest of my life miserable."


	12. Chapter 12

There were footsteps outside the cell door and Hawkeye attempted to open his eyes. There were a few shouts and he managed to pull himself n a sitting position. He noticed the soldier was gone and he struggled to recall what had happened. Something about a ring. What ring? He had been mumbling about a ring…and Margaret.

The metal door opened with a groan and two soldiers marched into the cell, shouting orders at him in Korean, while they swam around in front of him.

"Sorry, no luck," Hawkeye grumbled. "I don't speak gibberish." The shouted at him a few more times and Hawkeye shook his head wearily. "If you insist on yelling, at least stop the room from spinning."

The two men approached and yanked him to his feet. Hawkeye cried out involuntarily as burning pains seared through his leg. The two men conversed with one another few a few moments before shoving him back onto the stone floor and leaving the cold cell.

* * *

Margaret jerked awake and found herself staring into the face of Trapper John. "What on earth are you doing?" she hissed.

He only grinned and put a finger over his mouth to quiet her. While he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and silently picked her up Margaret helplessly went along. He carried her through the house and out the backdoor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she growled once they were outside. "Take me back inside this instant!"

"I want to show you something." He said quietly, continuing on his path to the nearby woods.

"I mean it, John. Take me back to the house right—"

"Can it will ya, Margaret?" he interrupted in annoyance.

Margaret shivered in the cold and to her surprise Trapper held her tighter, forcing her to lean against his chest. As he walked through the wood Margaret felt her eyelids growing heavy. She could hear a dull roar in the distance, reminding her of the freezing winds in Korea.

The noise grew louder and Margaret opened her eyes. "Where are you taking me?" she whispered sleepily.

"We're almost there." Margaret laid her head onto his shoulder sleepily and tried not to doze off.

"Here we are!" Margaret's eyes jerked back open and she looked around her curiously. They were only a few feet away from the edge of a cliff and Margaret rolled her eyes.

"There are more civilized ways of getting rid of me than throwing me off a cliff." She told his with a cynical smile.

"You have to see this," he responded with a serious face. He walked to the cliff's very edge and sat Margaret down on the grass. The moon was full and shinning brightly on the water below, making the ocean seem like a glittering, silver sheet.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, propping herself in a sitting position with her arms.

"You should see it in the winter. Hawk brought me here one Christmas, before I married Louise."

"You knew him before the war?" Margaret asked incredulously.

"Sure we went to the same college but we didn't really know each other until later. We did residency at the same hospital."

"I feel sorry for the staff," Margaret said flatly.

Trapper laughed and leaned his back against a pine tree. "You've changed a lot since I saw you last, Margaret. I haven't even seen one glimpse of Hot Lips since yesterday." Margaret rolled her eyes and looked up at the sky just in time to see a falling star.

"Make a wish," Trapper told her with a smile.

Margaret jus shook her head. "I don't see the point in wishing for the impossible. You wish for something."

Trapper stood up and put his hand over his heart, looking solemnly up at the stars. "I wish for a world of peace, harmony and nakedness."

The unexpected comment brought a sparkle into Margaret's eyes and she struggled to keep a grin off her face. "That's disgusting," she reprimanded.

"Look who you're talking to." He sat back down and looked at her seriously. "You know how sorry I am, don't you?"

Margaret was tempted to roll her eyes and ignore the question but she made the mistake of glancing into his eyes. She melted completely and nodded sadly. "It's easy to blame someone else." She whispered sadly and Trapper nodded in agreement.

"What happened that night?"

Margaret's softened expression instantly turned to stone and Trapper threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright; I'm sorry I asked."

Margaret glared at him for a moment and then turned her attention back on the calm water below her, wishing that the impossible really could come true.


	13. Chapter 13

a thousand apologies...

* * *

The pulled him outside and Hawkeye struggled to ignore the pain as he breathed in the fresh air. The sun was out as he made sure that his face was warmed by the rays, if only for a second. Before he knew it, the sunlight was gone as he was tossed into a filthy, windowless hut. As his eyes readjusted to the darkness he spotted sex other forms inside the tiny hut.

"Congratulations," a young man greeted sarcastically. "You made it outside."

Hawkeye painfully examined his leg, finding that it had become even more disfigured. "What are you talking about?" he growled.

"They brought you out here; they're not going to kill you."

Another man decided to pipe in. "Well, be prepared for the hell that's to follow."

* * *

"Trapper?" Margaret disentangled her arms from around his neck as he laid her into her bed. "Why re you being nice to me?"

He grinned and tweaked her nose. "I'm hoping to get lucky."

"Really, McIntyre, why?"

"I can tell that you changed, Margaret." His grin faded into a sloppy smile and he tilted his head to one side as he surveyed her. "You care about people as people, not just because of their rank. You miss Hawkeye even though he was a lowly captain."

"He was my friend," Margaret replied stiffly. "Of course I miss him."

"Yes, Major, ma'm." Trapper rolled his eyes and headed for the door. "I'll leave my door open; call me if you need anything."

Margaret sighed deeply and closed her eyes, wishing that she could rewind her life to four years ago; before the war, before McIntyre, and most of all, before Pierce.

* * *

"Come in, Honey." Margaret's eyes snapped open as she heard Daniel's voice. Was he talking to her? She glanced at the door but saw no one.

"I'll go get Margaret." This time the voice was Trapper's. She heard his steps echoing in the hallway and she offered a half-hearted smile as he popped his curly head into the room.

"Ride and shine, grumpy." He grinned, somewhat nervously Margaret noticed, and grabbed a dress from her suitcase. "This is going to be fun," he wiggled his eyebrows and moved towards the bed.

"I think I'll take over."

Margaret's eyes snapped to the door and she saw Lorraine standing there, her hands on her hips. "Put down the dress and back away slowly."

Trapper chuckled and handed the woman the dress. :'I'll get you, my pretty," he warned Margaret, with a smile. "And your little friend too."

"What on earth are you doing here, Lorrie?"

Lorraine smiled slightly and dropped her head down as if she were embarrassed. Margaret struggled to sit up and Lorraine hurried to help her.

"Can I come to Washington with you?" she blurted out suddenly, as she leaned Margaret up against the headboard. "Please? I promise I won't drive you crazy, and I'll clean up after myself and if you want you can get the army to pay me to help you out rather than some complete stranger and—"

"Lorraine, have you gone mad?" Margaret stared at her friend in shock. Lorraine hung her head once more and began to sob quietly.

"He's dead," she sobbed. "He was driving a jeep to Seoul and the engine exploded." Lorraine lifter her tear-filled eyes to meet her fiend's. "Please let me come with you, Maggie. I couldn't stand being alone right now."

Margaret offered her friend a sympathetic look and though about it for a moment; wondering at the face that someone actually found her presence comforting. "Do you really think you can put up with me?" she asked hesitantly.

Lorraine threw her arms around Margaret's neck and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, thank you so much."


End file.
